Rude Awakening
by HighlyOveractiveImagination
Summary: John is woken up in a not-very-nice fashion. First ever attempt at fan fiction!


Running. Sherlock and john seemed to do an awful lot of that. At the moment they were chasing a young business man through the streets of London. The man's family had a history of bipolar disorder and the man himself, Richard something was his name, had cracked one day and decided to strangle his receptionist with his tie. Sherlock, of course, had done what Sherlock always does; he had run around to a bunch of seemingly random places and somehow had seen connections in barely visible clues that inevitably led to this guy. Of course later on Sherlock would explain everything and it would all seem so simple and John would probably wind up feeling very stupid. Sometimes John wondered why Sherlock put up with him, because in comparison to Sherlock he really was quite simple-minded. This train of thought came skittering to a halt in John's mind as soon as he rounded the corner into a dark alleyway to see Sherlock get hit in the face with a metal pipe. John dashed forward as Sherlock crumpled to the alley floor and leapt over his limp body, tackling Richard what's-his-face to the ground. The murderer's head hit the ground hard and he instantly was out cold. John didn't even stop to check on the man, he was instantly at Sherlock's side lifting him up into his arms, checking for a pulse, making sure he was alright. Sherlock's eyelids fluttered open revealing the silvery grey irises beneath and Sherlock let out a painful groan. John let out breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, he allowed his head to fall onto Sherlock's shoulder as he chuckled in relief. Sherlock gave him a weak smile and John couldn't help it, he had been in love with Sherlock for ages now and he knew it; but he never had the heart to tell Sherlock who would probably never love him back. He pulled Sherlock to him and kissed him gently on the lips, Sherlock had incredibly smooth lips John noted. He pulled away, terrified of what he would see in Sherlock's eyes, confusion, rejection, or worst of all, downright revulsion; but when John looked up he didn't see Sherlock's eyes at all. He saw Jim Moriarty's eyes. Jim laughed and John tried to get away but found he couldn't move. Jim rose to his feet laughing maniacally his eyes wide with glee John tried desperately to get away to _move_, but he couldn't he was trapped like an insect in a spiders web. Jim stopped laughing and leant in close to John's face so their noses were almost touching.

"You really thought he could ever love _you?_" Jim whispered a huge grin on his face. He pulled a butcher knife out of his belt and rose to his feet. That's when John saw Sherlock standing behind Jim, not restrained, not hurt, just standing. Watching with that disinterested gaze he always had. John tried to scream to him, to call to Sherlock, so Sherlock could save him; but no sound came out and Sherlock continued to watch as if nothing were happening. Moriarty pulled the knife back with a grin on his face. John tried to scream for Sherlock again but Sherlock just turns and walks away his lithe form disappearing into the night. Jim scoffs and shakes his head.

"Idiot." And Jim brings the knife down straight into John's heart.

John wakes with a start his chest heaving, sweat beaded on his forehead, arms and legs wrapped up in the sheets of his bed so he can't move. He closes his eyes willing the dream to go away, for Jim's horrible grin to disappear; but of course it doesn't, Jim's grin stays put, his words playing over and over in his mind.

"_You really thought he could ever love _you_?"_ John struggled out of his bed and did his best to walk quietly down the stairs. Sherlock was in the living room (of course) laying on the sofa with his hands tucked underneath his chin like he was praying.

"Nightmare?" Sherlock asked as John sat heavily in his chair. John just nodded. Sherlock sat up slightly to see John better.

"Are you alright?" He asked. John nodded again.

"Fine, just fine." He responded. Sherlock nodded losing interest quickly and went back to staring at the ceiling in thought. John closed his eyes, allowing Sherlock's presence to comfort him.

"_You really thought he could ever love _you_?" _John squeezed his eyes shut even further. Wishing the hollow sensation in his chest would stop.

"_Idiot."_


End file.
